


Lost in St. Petersburg

by RosalindHawkins



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Being Lost, Doppelganger, Gen, Homelessness, Language Barrier, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindHawkins/pseuds/RosalindHawkins
Summary: Gladion doesn't know where he is how he got there, all he knows is that he wants to go home. Otabek is shocked to find a near-clone of his lovely Russian boyfriend. Yuuri tries being kind to a stranger.





	Lost in St. Petersburg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chibii94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibii94/gifts).



> This didn't quite turn out the way I was expecting it to, but I don't have it in me to make this a multi-chap fic.

Gladion anxiously turned over Silvally’s pokeball in the pocket of his hoodie, repeating the action compulsively as his eyes darted around to take in his surroundings. The city seemed, like the rest of this world, devoid of pokemon.  
  
He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here. All he knew was that he’d accidentally surprised a small pack of wild Abras, then they’d attacked with teleport en masse, and he’d landed in a pile of snow in a strange place that didn’t look like any location in any region he’d visited before. He’d been here for maybe a week, faking his way through this world’s customs and language until he found a pokecenter and could access his PC so he could withdraw a pokemon that knew teleport.  
  
He still wasn’t sure he knew how to get back home.  
  
Not that he really had much of a home. He never really had, but Hau was the closest thing to home for him, and he’d promised to meet him in Olivine City four days ago. His boyfriend was probably worried sick about him. Hau was typically an optimistic, easygoing person, but he’d tempered his optimism with caution as he matured to counteract his natural carelessness.  
  
Hau must have alerted all of Johto to his absence by now, and at least half of Alola thanks to the influence of Professor Kukui.  
  
One month of solitary training on Mount Silver had somewhat prepared him for this—sleeping on stone, trudging through frigid slush, and surviving only through the use of his own skills—but he hadn’t spent nearly enough time on the peak to be adapted to such cold weather as this. He kept warm at night with Sylvally curled around him in whatever spot they happened to make their own until dawn, but he couldn’t afford to feed himself everyday, let alone to buy himself anymore outerwear than his Liepard-print jacket, so he was numbed down to his extremities during the day. What little food he COULD afford to buy, he bought with the rubles he earned through begging.  
  
He’d learned quickly that money here was called “rubles” and that money from his homeland was worthless. The one time a passerby spotted Sylvally out of his pokeball, the man had reacted like he’d seen a monster, like he’d never seen a pokemon before in his life. Frightened as he was, the man had seemed, to Gladion’s trained eye, ready to turn violent at the slightest provocation. That was their first day here, and since then, he’d tried his hardest to keep his companion out of sight, even if it left him lonely and more vulnerable than he preferred.  
  
If only he’d accepted that Hidden Machine offered to him by that Goldenrod City townsperson. Then he could teach his Crobat fly and he could leave this dreary place and search for his home.  
  
He still didn’t even know what it was called, the country or the city.  
  
It had to be a city, for it was more developed and industrial than even the biggest city in Unova. Tall buildings crowded the skies, strange smoke corrupted the air in some areas, and light polluted the night sky. It saddened him.  
  
He pulled his hood closer down around his face as the wind whipped up, stinging his eyes with urban grit. Ugh. Even his hood smelled like the foul place he’d wandered into last night. He hadn’t been able to compare it to anything else he’d seen in all the regions he’d visited, but it had seemed like the kind of place where some of the least savory Team Skull grunts he’d known would prefer to spend their time. Intoxicated people had laughed and stumbled their way down the sidewalks, and before he’d even realized the depth of his danger, Silvally was pulling him away, back the way they’d come.  
  
Gladion paused at the street corner with the other pedestrians who were waiting to cross. The shopping district was typically a better place to beg, after all, since it was a place where people with money tended to congregate. His feet ached so much that he thought they might just fall off.  
  
The light changed, the people around him started moving, so he did too. Five more blocks, and he was surrounded by storefronts and people ready to spend their money. He was searching for a spot to sit, preferably under an awning since the thick clouds in the sky promised rain, when he noticed a noisy group of young women, some of whom looked adolescent, all wearing headbands that sported cat ears. The group was chatting noisily, shifting with excitement. They moved as if they had one mind, like a swarm of Beedrill, Gladion mused. He was across the street from them as he passed, glancing in their direction when one happened to look back at him.  
  
He could swear that she locked eyes with him before she pointed in his direction and shrieked something, drawing the immediate attention of all her companions. Gladion froze for a moment. Were they really pointing at him? Why on earth would they do that? The frenzied way they moved was enough to tell him that he didn’t want to stick around to find out.  
  
Gladion jerked into motion, running at full speed although every step sent shocks of pain through his legs and a pounding ache in his head. He could hear the women in pursuit, repeating the word, “Yuri,” over and over again in shrill excitement.  
  
If only he knew what it meant.  
  
He was starting to tire—more quickly than he would if he were at perfect health—when he felt a hand close around his arm and jerk him into a side alley. He froze as he felt himself being held firm against a solid body that smelled of leather and soap. The pack of women ran past, and the man who’d grabbed him said something low, voice rumbling through his chest in a way that Gladion could feel even through his clothes.  
  
When he reached down to place a warm, gloved hand low on Gladion’s waist, the small blonde jerked out of the stranger’s hold. He stepped towards the street, ready to brace himself against the mob of fangirls if it meant getting away from someone who was far too eager to get handsy with him.  
  
He hadn’t eaten in almost three days, but he wasn’t ready to stoop that low. Not yet. Not ever.  


* * *

  
Otabek had told Yuri to stay inside the store so that Otabek could bring his motorcycle to the storefront to pick him up, before Yuri’s Angels spotted them outside. So when he saw them chasing down his Yura, he was both baffled and amused. He took a side street to get around them and pull Yuri out of their path.  
  
“Why didn’t you wait for me, Yura?” the Kazakh skater asked quietly as he held his boyfriend against his front. “I was only a couple minutes away.” He dropped his hand to Yuri’s waist, and was shocked to feel himself being pushed away. Yuri tried to run out into the street, but Otabek grabbed the handle on Yuri’s backpack and pulled him back.  
  
Wait. Yuri hadn’t taken a backpack with him for their shopping trip. Otabek pulled hard enough that the person had no choice but to stumbled back, then lean against the brick wall beside them as Otabek moved around to get a good look at his face.  
  
This wasn’t Yuri Plisetsky.  
  
He looked almost the same, which was quite a shock, but this definitely wasn’t his Yura. His hair was greasy, his cheek had a smudge of dirt, dark circles under his eyes, his face was pale with a fevered flush across his cheeks. Otabek released him with a sense of remorse.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized in Russian. “I mistook you for someone else.” With a wry smile, he added, “It looks like Yuri’s Angels did too.”  
  
The stranger’s expression didn’t change. He just continued to stare at Otabek with fear and mistrust, so Otabek repeated himself in English. Still no response. He didn’t look like he spoke Kazakh, but Otabek tried that anyways. Still nothing. Giving up, he stepped back so that he wasn’t blocking the way out and gestured towards the road. Yuri’s look alike, rather than leaving, sank to the ground on his knees with a small sound of pain. Otabek dropped down beside him in concern, resting one hand on his shivering shoulder.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, even though he wouldn’t be understood. Maybe it was because this person looked so much like his Yura, but he couldn’t just let himself walk away from him. He looked sick and lost. Surely there was a way that Otabek could help him?  
  
His phone started vibrating in his pocket with an incoming call. Without moving away, Otabek pulled out his phone and answered it.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Beka, where are you?” Yuri sounded both annoyed and desperate. “You said you’d be back in five minutes. What’s taking so long?”  
  
“I have a small problem,” Otabek began as he watched Yuri’s look-alike press his shaking hands to the ground in front of him.  
  
“What is it? Please don’t tell me they already found you?”  
  
“No, Yuri’s Angels didn’t find me, but they found someone who looks just like you and chased him down instead.”  
  
“I fail to see the problem.”  
  
“He’s sick, Yura, and I don’t think he understands me.”  
  
“What are you talking about, Beka? You’re not making any sense.”  
  
“Your fangirls are out of the way, so just come to me, okay? I’ll send you my location.” Otabek hung up before Yuri could argue with him further. Yuri was a fighter, a competitor, not a caregiver. He was an only child, unlike Otabek, who had three younger siblings and understood the compulsion to care for someone younger and weaker than himself.  
  
He also followed the compulsion whenever he thought necessary, like right now, when confronted with someone who was alone and confused and unwell.  
  
“You’re going to be okay,” Otabek assured him in a soothing voice, the one he used with his eight-year-old sister. “We’ll find someone who speaks a language you can understand, and we’ll get you help.”  


* * *

  
Gladion didn’t remember anything after falling to his knees in a fit of dizziness. He must have passed out. That was the only explanation for how he’d ended up in a hospital.  
  
He barely had a few moments to get his bearings before a dark-haired man with a pleasant face and large glasses intruded on his peripheral vision.  
  
“Hello,” the young man greeted with mild smile. Gladion blinked watery eyes at him unresponsively. Yuuri sat in the chair by the foot of the bed, hands respectfully in his lap. Then he tried again, in Japanese. Gladion’s eyebrow twitched, then he cleared his throat and managed to return the greeting in a raspy voice. Yuuri’s eyes lit up, features gentling with relief.  
  
“My name is Yuuri. What’s yours?”  
  
“…Gladion.”  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Gladion.” His dark eyes shone warmly behind thick glass. “You seem to have been mistaken for one of my friends by his fangirls. I’m so sorry that happened.”  
  
“…It’s fine,” Gladion mumbled.  
  
“Are you here in St. Petersburg alone, or is there someone we can call to come pick you up?”  
  
“St. Petersburg?” Gladion echoed carefully, the words feeling odd on his tongue. “Is that where I am?”  
  
“You didn’t know?” Now Yuuri looked confused. Gladion shook his head. “Oh dear. That is a bit of a problem. Where are you from?”

“…Alola.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of it before,” Yuuri apologized politely. “Where is that?”

Gladion blinked at him, giving him an odd look.

“It’s in the ocean.”

“You mean, it’s an island?” Yuuri asked hesitantly.

“Obviously,” Gladion snapped back, crossing his arms in irritation. He didn’t like being questioned by a stranger. Why was it any of his business where Gladion was from? If Yuuri hadn’t heard of Alola, then he wouldn’t be able to help Gladion get home.

He’d only just woken up, but he didn’t feel rested at all. He felt exhausted, and hungry. His stomach couldn’t even growl anymore, it just felt like an empty tube of toothpaste. There was a needle in his arm connecting him to a nutritive IV, but the pinching sensation only added to his irritation. Annoyed, he pulled it out, ignoring whatever Yuuri was telling him. Gladion felt trapped in this tiny room. He needed to be free again.

“Where’s my bag?” he asked curtly, cutting off Yuuri mid-sentence as he rolled down his sleeve.

“It’s over there.” Yuuri pointed to a chair in the corner on the other side of the bed. “But I don’t think you should leave yet. You’re still sick. Don’t worry about the cost, Victor and I will pay for you.”

“I don’t need your charity. I’ve always survived just fine on my own.” Gladion got out of bed, his knees a bit weak, but he wasn’t going to let that show.

“So you really are here all alone?” Yuuri’s eyes drooped sadly, giving him the appearance of a lost puppy.

“That’s none of your business.” Gladion was putting his backpack on when Yuuri spoke next, saying something that gave him a reason to pause.

“How are you going to get around by yourself if you can’t get anyone to understand you?”

Gladion stood with his back to Yuuri, considering his words.

“You only speak Japanese, don’t you? For most people, if they know a second language, it’s English, but you didn’t seem to understand that. Then I thought you might know some Russian, since we’re in Russia, but you didn’t understand that either. Otabek said that you didn’t respond to his Kazakh either.”

“You’re not making any sense, but I don’t care.” Gladion walked to the doorway and paused momentarily. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long time now. I know what I’m doing.” With that, the loner walked out, leaving Yuuri Katsuki speechless and anxious on his behalf.


End file.
